There are people in this world who do big, scary, and bold things. I, generally, am not one of them. Some of these things are opportunities afforded by chance and bravery: the person who jumps up to perform the Heimlich on a choking stranger at a restaurant, the Chilean miners who fought their own fear and doubt to persevere. Sometimes these big and scary things are ordered on purpose with a sprinkle of excitement and adrenaline, skydiving as an example. Others choose these things as part of a bigger purpose, think firefighters and pastors: very different works, both scary and vital. However, sometimes the scary and bold things are done as part of day-to-day life and seem all the bolder for the people who do them in quiet deliberation: the shy third grader who stands up to a bully for a friend, parents and teachers helping to shape and form our next generation. Those are all acts that are bold and miraculous in their ordinariness.
I turned 35 in July. Somehow, this year wasn’t as upsetting as turning 29 was for me. However, it is scary to think that I am now of age to run for President. (Yes, we did just finish up one long election cycle. Simply put, this girl is not throwing her hat in the ring despite her love of politics). I mention that not because I fear wrinkles and grey hair and growing older. I welcome those, although I will be coloring my brown hair as long as possible. This just seems to be a good taking stock kind of age. I love my birthday as the welcome to a new year, a clean slate, much like many people welcome January 1. I love new beginnings, but often have many ideas and plans that follow the path of many well-intentioned New Year’s resolutions: the road to nowhere quickly. This year feels differently for a number of reasons. I have been in a rut for some time: physically, spiritually, financially, and emotionally. I am trying to figure out how to dig out. Just like in a snowstorm, sometimes it starts with the first shovel.
By digging out of my hole, I want to tackle big, scary and bold things. I want to return to my origins, my passions, my center, my self. I want to clean up the mess and get on with the doing. I want to escape the self so I can be a better sister, daughter, friend, co-worker. This was the impetus for the blog. I hope to find myself by returning to my loves and passions and to share my journey in the act of writing. I returned to dreams that I had as a child, as a teenager, as a twenty-something. What were those dreams and why haven’t I pursued them? There are a myriad of dreams and reasons, but there were a few dreams that seemed to repeat themselves: to write, to run a marathon, and to join the Peace Corps.
In awakening myself, I realized that I craved these things. These are my big and scary and bold things. At certain times in my past, I have made resolutions to pursue these dreams, but they often ended quickly after the declaration. This time I want it to be different. I don’t want to tell the world I’m going to do them. I want to do them.
I want to run a marathon. I want to join the Peace Corps. I want to write a weekly blog, keep a journal, and pursue my love of writing as part of living my life.
The beauty is in the doing and in the doing I can begin to dig out and unite my dream life and my real life into one. Running into life. I chose that for my blog name and I choose that for my path.